


Orange Crush

by yours_eternally



Series: AUgust 2020 Prompts [12]
Category: Motionless in White (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Blow Jobs, Burns, Injury Recovery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:40:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25858312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yours_eternally/pseuds/yours_eternally
Summary: ‘Sorry, is that hurting?’ he asks, straightening up. Chris doesn’t speak but Ricky can see a flush creeping up his throat, only partially concealed by the tattoos. Then Ricky, noticing him shift uncomfortably in his sweats, spots the reason for his discomfort. He’s hard. Chris blushes even harder, realising Ricky has seen.‘Sorry, man,’ he says, hanging his head and holding up his bandaged hands woefully, ‘It’s, uh, nothing personal. I’m sort of, um,sensitiveat the moment, y’know I can’t, like…’ He makes a hand gesture and they both laugh.Chris is injured on his night off, leaving Ricky shocked and upset. Picking him up from the hospital, Ricky realises he'd be happy to care for Chris in whatever way he needs.
Relationships: Chris "Motionless" Cerulli/Ricky "Horror" Olson
Series: AUgust 2020 Prompts [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859290
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16
Collections: AUgust 2020





	Orange Crush

‘This one,’ Chris says, pointing and Ricky turns the wheel pulling up to the curb. 

‘Glad to be home?’ he asks, leaning over to help Chris unclip his belt as his hands are still covered in bandages. He’d received second-degree burns to his hands and arms dragging a kid out of a house fire on his night off. He was lucky not to be dead from smoke inhalation. Ricky can still hear the sirens in his head when he thinks about swinging down from the truck to find Chris blistered and glassy-eyed on the pavement. 

‘Yeah,’ Chris grins, shaking him from his thoughts, ‘I swear I slept like four hours every night I was on the ward.’ 

‘That sucks,’ Ricky says, squeezing his leg sympathetically. Chris smiles at him and Ricky quickly withdraws his hand, guessing his colleague (of the same company for nearly two years) isn’t going to be feeling a come on right now, however much Ricky wants to kiss him. 

Ricky gets out of the driver's side and tracks around to help Chris, though he’s pretty solid on his feet Ricky’s a little nervous as they wouldn’t let him walk to the car at the hospital. 

‘Thanks,’ Chris says, letting Ricky fit against his side, arm around his waist, as they walk up the drive to his front door. Ricky tries not to notice, despite the top note of _hospital_ , how good Chris smells. He takes Chris’ keys and unlocks the door clumsily, helping Chris to the couch before going back to the car to grab Chris’ backpack and grab his phone from the dash. 

He pulls the door closed behind him, glancing around, trying not to make his appraisal of Chris’ home too obvious. The guitars are of immediate interest. The rest of the space was spare but clean and Ricky remembers Chris mentioning his sister, who is coming over as soon as she gets off her shift, had been cleaning while he was in the hospital. 

‘You want something to eat?’ Ricky asks peeking in the gift basket on the counter. 

‘No. I’m okay,’ Chris says, shaking his head when Ricky comes back over to him. ‘Could you um—?’ he squirms, unable to use his hands to rearrange the pillows bunched up at his back. 

‘Sure,’ Ricky says quickly, bending to pull at the pillows, one hand on Chris’ leg for balance as he tugs. Chris makes a soft noise and Ricky glances at his face.

‘Sorry, is that hurting?’ he asks, straightening up. Chris doesn’t speak but Ricky can see a flush creeping up his throat, only partially concealed by the tattoos. Then Ricky, noticing him shift uncomfortably in his sweats, spots the reason for his discomfort. He’s hard. Chris blushes even harder, realising Ricky has seen. 

‘Sorry, man,’ he says, hanging his head and holding up his bandaged hands woefully, ‘It’s, uh, nothing personal. I’m sort of, um, _sensitive_ at the moment, y’know I can’t, like…’ He makes a hand gesture and they both laugh. 

But then they sober and all Ricky can hear is the blood pounding in his ears, as the memories of a thousand too long looks and a thousand too long touches float to the surface of his mind.

‘I could help you with that,’ his mouth says from what feels like a very long way away. Chris looks up at him and Ricky’s not quite prepared for the raw _need_ in his expression. 

‘You—’ he starts then stops flushing again, then he takes a breath and says, ‘—I’d like that.’ And the pounding in Ricky’s ears is so loud he can barely hear himself think. Probably for the best, he concedes as he runs his hand up Chris' thigh before gently cupping between his legs and squeezing. Chris groans softly, pressing into his hand. 

Ricky sinks to his knees so he’s knelt between Chris’ legs where he’s sat on the couch. He rubs him, feeling for the shaft of his cock through his clothes. Chris makes another soft noise. Ricky lifts his other hands to Chris’ waistband and slips his fingertips under, glancing at Chris’ face. He’s watching him under dark eyelashes, sucking at his lip. Chris’ skin is warm as Ricky’s fingers brush over it and realises with a twist of heat that he’s not wearing underwear. He can’t pretend he doesn’t want this, that he hadn’t wanted this for a while now. Chris groans as Ricky’s hand strokes through the crisp hairs at the base of his cock and closes his hand around it. He starts to stroke it awkwardly inside his clothes. 

‘Can I pull these down?’ Ricky asks, tugging at the ties of Chris’ sweats with his empty hand. 

‘Sure,’ Chris mumbles, lifting his hips to help as Ricky wriggles his sweats further down his thighs. Ricky can’t help but look down at his cock; deep pink with the tip poking out of his fist. He feels his gut tighten, palms tingling, wanting it in his mouth. 

He shifts forwards and lowers his head, glancing at Chris once more before he gently licks the head of he cock. Chris groans deeply, biting his lip to muffle the sound. Ricky moves closer allowing more of Chris’ cock into his mouth and starting to suck him. He can feel Chris’ bandaged hands resting gingerly on his shoulders and can feel his hips shifting up to meet his mouth. 

Ricky presses into him more, letting his cock slide in and out of his mouth as he moves. Chris moans, head tipping back against the couch back. Ricky reaches up, pushing up his t-shirt and holding his waist. Ricky can feel the sound going straight to his cock. Ricky pulls back a little to mouth the head of his cock. He moves one of his hands down to feel his balls, squeezing and rolling them between his fingertips. Chris tenses up.

‘ _Rick_ ,’ he grits out, ‘I’m close, if you—’ Ricky nods, looking into Chris eyes as he takes him back down. He sees Chris’ eyelashes flicker. Ricky continues to rub his balls as he takes his cock deeper. Ricky sucks him, slicking him with saliva as he slips deeper and deeper until Ricky’s pressed up against his stomach. Chris groans then gasps sharply, going rigid and Ricky can feel him come. He swallows, sitting up and letting Chris slip from his mouth. 

Chris is panting, eyes unfocused and glossy. Ricky bends to carefully fix his clothes and Chris surprises him, leaning up to kiss him as Ricky leans over him. The peck lands on the side of his mouth but Chris mumbles softly evidently wanting more so Ricky turns to kiss him properly. Chris lets his tongue slide into his mouth and Ricky cups his cheek sinking into the kiss. 

Chris exhales heavily when Ricky pulls backs, lifting his hand to smooth Chris’ hair off his face. 

‘You okay?’ Ricky says, smiling as Chris presses his face into his hand nuzzling. He hopes it’s the afterglow and not the pain meds. 

‘Good,’ he says, nodding, ‘tired,’ he adds after thinking about it then he’s looking at Ricky’s face and Ricky can feel his heart in his throat.

‘I wanted to tell you when you were in the hospital,’ Ricky says, fingers twisting nervously in the ends of his hair. ‘You were so sick, and I never said anything and I… I regretted that.’ 

‘I’m glad you said something,’ Chris says, but then he smirks, ‘—although I’m not sure giving me a blowjob is exactly _saying_ something.’ 

‘Fuck off,’ Ricky snorts, warmth unfurling onwards from his chest, nudging Chris’ foot with the toe of his sneaker. Chris laughs. 

Before they can say anything else there’s the sound of a set of keys in the lock and they both freeze, Ricky trying very much to not look like he’d just had a cock in his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> Research for this was watching 1991's _Backdraft_... which tells you everything you need to know about my creative process
> 
> [xyours-eternallyx](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/xyours-eternallyx) on tumblr 🙌


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